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I cut him off with an incredulous noise. “No. No. That’s not an option. She’s my son’s nanny. She’s a dozen years younger than me. Plus,” I said with a frustrated grumble, “I think she’s with somebody. I saw a text message from a person named Jordan. She’s been texting a lot more lately and…”
I trailed off, raking my hands through my hair before rubbing at my neck.
“That brings us to option two.” Dylan stuck two fingers up. “Quit thinking with your dick and remember what your priorities are.”
I huffed. “That work for you?”
“No, but luckily, Genevieve likes my dick.”
Jude shook his head. “You’re real great at this, man.”
Dylan shrugged and chucked his empty coffee cup into the nearby trash can on his way to redirect Tucker, who appeared as if he was about to get into a fight with his sister.
Jude patted my back. “I can tell you’re really stressed over this situation, and if you’re dead set against anything happening between you two, I think the best thing to do would be to stay as far away as you can. You know? Like you said, she’s Finn’s nanny.”
“Yeah. I know. I know. I have to keep it professional. No matter what.”
But that was easier said than done with how she was around all the time. Even when I didn’t want her to be. “This whole weekend, I thought she’d take off since I don’t have school tomorrow and Tuesday,” I told Jude. “But she insisted she wanted to stick around. She must have things to do, but she said no. She wanted to hang out with me and Finn.”
My friend hummed then went quiet for a while. “On the upside, it sounds like she’s doing wonders for Finn.”
“Oh yeah. She’s phenomenal. It sucks to admit that I was having such a hard time being a single parent, that I was failing him, but Kennedy’s a godsend. She’s patient and sweet and… I can’t lose her just because I can’t control myself around her.”
He shrugged. “Maybe you need to find someone else to get your mind off her. Go on some dates or something.”
I threw him a dubious look, and he laughed in return. “Yeah. Yeah. I know. Pot calling the kettle.”
Jude had been a widower a few years now, and every couple of months, he was talked into going on a date, which he would either cancel or go on and promptly make up an excuse to leave. He should’ve been the last one to tell someone else to go on a date as a distraction.
“In the meantime…” He pointed over to where Finn had his head stuck in the plastic mailbox.Again.
ELEVEN
KENNEDY
“Five, six, seven, eight!”
I danced along breathlessly as Andie, the choreographer, took us through the energetic number, “You Can’t Stop The Beat.” My shirt was soaked with sweat and my ponytail hung limply off the side of my head, but I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.
Cathy, as usual, sat at a six-foot-long table with her notepad and script, watching intently, giving notes and direction. She was fun and well organized, but I guessed with only about two months until the show, she had to be. Rehearsals were three hours every night, Monday through Thursday, broken down by scenes, songs, or chorus numbers. The cast was huge, and Cathy liked to work with the major roles at the beginning of the week, while Andie took the chorus through the big numbers, and then, we’d put it all together on Thursday nights.
The whole cast got along really well, and even the few kids who were in the show were trying their very best. While this wasn’t Broadway, it was wonderful to find a community that accepted me. For once, I didn’t feel out of place or like I was lagging behind. That was what made theater so great. We all were here because we loved it, which made it so much easier to keep going even as my feet ached.
“All right, let’s take ten!” Andie called with some clapping.
Cathy smiled, offering us a thumbs-up. “Great work.”
I gulped down some water from my aluminum water bottle, covered with dinosaur stickers from Finn, then mopped my face with my T-shirt before collapsing at the end of the stage.
A shadow fell over me, and I focused my sight up to find Christian smiling down at me. “You’re killing it, Ken.”
He offered me a fist bump as he sat next to me, his long legs dangling off the edge of the stage. He was about my age and playing Seaweed, one of the main Black characters, who sang my favorite song in the whole show, “Run and Tell That.” Christian was a great singer, but an even better dancer, so for him to compliment me made my insides all gooey.
“Thanks. I’m trying.”
“It shows. But listen,” he said, lightly backhanding my arm, “I’m trying to get something together for this weekend. See who’s available to grab dinner and a drink. You in?”
“I have to double-check that I’m free, but I should be.”
